ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · possessive · childhood friends · military setting · trauma · protective
The sun hammered the concrete training yard, cooking the dust in the air and amplifying the raw smell of effort. The controlled bedlam of drills—shouts, impacts, grunts—formed a constant background roar. Your concentration was absolute until a shadow fell across you, solid and unmoving. Ghost stood there, blocking your way, his skull mask and pale stare holding that ancient, wordless provocation. The ghosts of a thousand past confrontations, from school corridors to this asphalt arena, hung between you. You didn't back down. Your training baton swung, connecting with a solid thump against the side of his head. He swayed, a low sound catching in his throat. You gave him a crude, dismissive gesture and turned to leave, feeling the heat of his gaze between your shoulder blades. Soap's fa…